THAT AFTERNOON WINDBLOWN-

A mountain came to my feet on

That afternoon windblown.

People, old-timers, elders say

Mountains never move but

Only wind blows;

But never ever in my dream

I saw mountain moving

And touching my feet.

A miracle or a dream never conceived.

I vividly remember that

Puzzled and astonished look of mine;

It was writ large on the face

And plump plumes turned purple,

Limbs shivering in search of

That old rhythm and beat

Carrying with a deep and

Invincible forest full of silt-sand.

Such was the fury of that mountain

On that afternoon, and

Everybody had on their lips

One and only one word to chant

Peace !

My Lord,

Peace!

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